My Little Cherry
by MarieAngelicaStars
Summary: He's gone...and he's never coming back


My Little Cherry: Alexis Stone

Note: This is a one-shot I came up with so...review and comment! ^-^/

I lay down on my bed waiting for dinner to be called. We just got back from dad's funeral and the shock is still in me, my mind replaying the moments from when I found out: I was in math class sitting next to my friend, Skylar Jackson we were whispering away when the principal announced for me to come to the office. I was nervous. My heart started racing the way it does when I'm nervous or mad, multiple things going through my head. I wasn't the best student at Whisper Hills High, but I wasn't the worst either.

When I reach the front office, as soon as I walk in Principal Hadley rushed me into his office. I was seated in one of those big, comfy chairs when I noticed the look on his face. It was pity, straight out pure pity, you know, the way you look at someone when something bad happened to them and you don't know about it yet. I was confused. What happened? I didn't know. Did something happen to mom or dad or both? I didn't know. It was like he read my mind starting with these words:" Alexis I'm very sorry for your loss...", wait, pause for a minute. "What loss? Who died?" I ask getting more and more suspicious by the second. With the same pitiful look on his face he answers: "Your dad and mom were in a store shooting at 21 Culture. My mind starts racing again filling up with possible scenarios too and too many to count and then Principal Hadley said something that made my heart stop. He said "Alexis in the store shooting your father was shot and killed.

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Principal Hadley offered to drive me over to see my mom and of course the rest of the crime scene. Along the way there I remember breathing in and out, trying to brace myself for what I was about to see. I hold the locket that dad gave me when I was only 3 years old. It was in the shape of a cherry because that's my favorite fruit and inside it had a picture of me when I was just 16 weeks old it's not my favorite picture in the world, but he used it anyways, next to on the other side of the locket it said something in Spanish, but since I never learned Spanish I didn't know what it said but it looked like this Mi Pequeña cereza my mom used to say it was my special nickname.

I'm still lost in thought when Principal Hadley says "we're here" I look out the window and already I could see how severe it was police cars are everywhere, ambulance trucks scattered all over the place, paramedics telling already worried families news there was nothing in the world that could've braced me for what I was seeing right now. Bodies are everywhere laying on the ground bleeding or just lying there as I open the car door I noticed something my mom is sitting in the back of an ambulance truck, crying I think.

I run over to her and hug her as hard as I can. When I look up at her face, her makeup which was picture perfect this morning is now all over her face, her new shirt is covered in tears from crying and her eyes they were bloodshot red from crying so much, my heart skipped a beat when I saw her in this state I was usually used to seeing her look like a model, not like…..this. I hugged her again and she started crying again, this time I was telling her everything is going to be OK when out of the corner of my eye I saw two or three paramedics lift a body on a stretcher when I saw the body I felt like crying myself now, I couldn't see that well but I could make out the man's features. H e had a blue and white striped shirt that was coated in blood, blue jeans that were now torn and bloody. I couldn't believe it was my dad being loaded on to that stretcher. I refused to believe it I tried tricking myself, saying in my mind "He's just going to the hospital, he'll be ok", but who was I kidding he's not going to the hospital he's not going to be ok. He's gone he's really gone.

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There was too many emotions swelling up in in me to cry. During the funeral I was like a soda can that was shaken hard, so hard that even the slightest, smallest touch might set me off but not into tears but anger, pure anger that's what my main emotion was. When people say is unfair, that it will never be easy they're not lying. My aunt Corlina, a woman who always carries herself in pride had the nerve to say to my mother afterwards that I wasn't sad, or I didn't care just because I didn't shed a single tear. In fact, I didn't feel like crying anyways the pain and emotions I was feeling were too much for me to handle and understand let alone crying.

The truth is I did care my dad was one of the most important people in my life, the one who was always there for me even when he left for the military when I was about ten and didn't come back until two years later it seemed like he was there during those years of absence singing me to sleep with his little special lullaby. "Mi pequeña cereza, mi pequeña cereza, mi única, pequeña cereza". He would in a soft, low voice. Then my mom would join in with "siempre serás nuestra pequeña cereza". I never knew what I meant since I've never learned Spanish, but it always put me to sleep. Sometimes I wish I could just go back to those days when dad would give me warm bear hugs and play dress up with me like most dads do. One night while mom was making dinner me, and dad were outside looking up at the stars. I was five at the time so stars to me where big pretty shining lights so bright that even in the darkest night sky you could see their shimmery glow. My dad would point out the stars connecting them to make pictures and objects then he would jot them down as quickly as he could before he lost the image in his head. There was always one question I would ask him while we were admiring the night sky and he would always give me the same answer. "Daddy?" I would start. "Yes Cereza?" he would answer waiting patiently. "Daddy what are the stars for?" I would wonder. "whatever you want to use them for". He would always answer. I stop puzzled at this answer every time always wondering what did I _want_ to use them for? What was I _supposed_ to do with them? By then Mom has called inside for dinner. That's why I was always silent at dinner I was too busy wondering what Dad's answer meant and I still don't know to this day. I stop giving it much thought as I got older, but I would still go outside and stare at them because they had this soft glow that made me feel warm inside. Now when I look at the stars, I don't see that soft glow I had grown used to, now I see dull stones in the sky struggling to stay up because now my dad is gone.

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I woke up this morning, expecting to smell breakfast sizzling on the stove or the banging and bashing of pots and pans. But instead I heard only the silence, the kind that could be of two causes. No one's in the house with me or 2: My mom is silent for some reason. So, I roll over out of bed catching myself before I hit the floor and put on an oversized T- shirt and some shorts (because I'm too lazy to dress myself like I come from the planet Earth) and head downstairs making sure to seem like I'm not there and I'm still in bed. I stop midway because I hear my mother start sobbing. Tip toeing down one more step, so I can get a clear picture of whats happening. My mother is sitting on the couch looking down at something in her hand. She continued to do hat several times before I decided to stick my head in. "Hey mom." I immediately starting panicking inside my head. Was that too casual or maybe it showed that I recovered way too fast? Because I didn't. I was just as scarred as she was right now, in fact the hole in my heart that had formed when dad died just got deeper. She looked up. Her face was stained with tears, her eyes red and trying to hold back more tears, you would have thought she might have been at the face of death herself. "You need a hug?" I continued with because that's what it looked like she needed right now.

I used to give hugs to anyone I saw that was sad when I was little. Mom even recalled one time when I was three and we passed this poor beggar. I was holding my mom's hand tight through the busy sidewalks in Florida when I saw him. He looked so cold and old it almost brought me to tears, plus broke my three-year-old little heart. So, I stopped walking a pointed to him and looked up at my mom signaling to her that I wanted to help him. Her response was: "No Lexi dear, not right now.", but I wouldn't take no for an answer, so I reached in her purse, grabbed whatever felt like a dollar bill at the time and toddled over to where he was. Once I reached him he looked up at me and said, "where's your momma or your dad sweet child?" My only response was "Over there." I pointed to where my mom was standing, just a few feet away. Then he said, "You should go back to her." He stated, truly caring about my safety even thought we met a few minutes ago and I couldn't speak well. "Here." I said holding what I figured out later was about 200 bucks. By that time my mom was standing behind me watching how things would unfold with a sort of shocked expression on her face realizing that I had taken so much money from her precious purse. "Here." I said to him putting the money in his old top hat next to him. "Keep it." I continued. He looked up at my mom for her approval and she must have said yes because he looked at me and said with happy tears in his eyes "Thank you. My small angel." I couldn't say thank you at the time, so even though there were now people watching my every move, some of them had their phones out and were recording, even though my mom could have pulled me away that very second saying that we needed to leave and even though I could have just walked away. I didn't instead I took a step closer and hugged him. I latterly sat in his lap and hugged him this action was followed up by a bunch of "awws" or "she is so kind" or "how old is she".

One woman told my mom that I should be very proud of me. Broke away and took my mom's hand waving to the old man. It was my way of saying bye to him and h had the biggest smile on his face I had ever seen. From that day forward, I had felt satisfied knowing that I helped someone have a second chance at life. Mom always brings up that story because I used to hug everyone and that now that I'm fifteen I hardly touch anyone, so me offering a hug to her was kind of a surprise to her. Now she looks at me and says weakly "Yes Lexi I would (she sniffles) like that very much." So, I go towards where she's sitting on the couch and we hug each other for what seems like forever. I still have the locket he gave to me. Even though he's gone and he's never coming back, I'll always be his little cherry.


End file.
